Forgetting Yourself
by kou-tora
Summary: A medical accident damages captain Jim Kirk in more ways then one. Can the crew of the Enterprise deal with a captain, who is no longer the man they knew?
1. Chapter 1

Oh man, I forgot I had written this. I found it in the dark depths of my hard drive. I wrote it sometime after I watched the new movie.

Re-Reading it now, I'm not entirely happy with it. Some parts feel stiff and not quite with the flow I had imagined. But I'm tossing it out here anyway, seeing what people think. It's also pretty obvious this has not been beta'd in any way, so please excuse any mistakes. Also, my only knowledge of the series is from the new movie, and wikipedia. So I might have BS'd some facts here and there.

Enjoy.

---------------

Kirk hears the doors to the lift hiss open, but he doesn't turn to see who it is. He doesn't need too. He can feel the cold glare drilling a hole in the back of his head from where he sat in his captain's chair. Straightening a little in the suddenly uncomfortable chair, Kirk pulls up a video screen on his console, and begins idling scanning through files about their current destination, attempting to look busy.

"How long till we reach our destination?" Kirk asks aloud, using his utmost 'I'm-the-Captain-and-I'm-busy' voice.

"Approximately thirty-two hours till we reach Arkadis 5, keptin." Ensign Chekov replies, his eyes flicking nervously between the captain and the newcomer on the bridge.

Kirk winces and scowls internally. Shit, he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this up.

"Ahem." The person behind him irritably coughs, and Kirk can hear the tapping of an impatient foot. Swiveling around in his chair, Kirk decides he can't ignore it any longer, and turns to face his ultimate doom. Doctor Leonard McCoy, Chief Medical Officer.

"Bones! What a surprise. What brings you up to the bridge?" Kirk flashes him his trademark grin.

"Dammit Jim, I've been paging you for over an hour. Get your ass down to sick bay, _now_." The irritable doctor all but growls at Jim.

Dr. McCoy was generally a patient man, but he'd long since lost any of it when dealing with one James T. Kirk. After years of knowing the man, McCoy knew that no way in any level of hell would Kirk actually willingly go down to sick bay without a fight. So McCoy had long since stopped _asking_ Jim, he now _ordered_.

"I don't have time for that Bones. Can't you see I'm busy doing…..captainy…stuff?" Kirk internally winced at his oh-so-smooth excuse, but gave Bones another smile and waved his hands at his video screen for emphasis. Just as Bones had long since stopped asking, Jim had long since stopped listening.

"Nice try. Now you either march down there like the mature captain you _should _be, or we'll do it _my way. _"

'_My way' _turned out to be Bones's weapon of choice, his trusty hypospray, armed and dangerous. McCoy taps it in one hand, letting Jim know he was completely serious. As always.

"Come on Bones! I'm fine! We don't need to resort to such drastic measures." Kirk shrinks back in his chair a little bit, the sight of the hypospray making his neck twinge with phantom pains of previous assaults from the medical tool. He would've used his so called Captain-rank authority at his Chief Medical Officer, but Kirk had learned early on that not even being an Admiral would protect him from Bones and his so called mission to ensure Kirk's well-being.

Kirk cast a hasty glance around the Bridge, looking for an escape route. He silently cursed at the other crew members who were watching the exchange with interest, knowing none of them would come to his rescue. Sulu and Chekov were desperately trying stifle their laughs, while Uhura just rolled her eyes, unimpressed, and continued on with her work. They were quite use to the showdowns between the Captain and the CMO, and they learned right off the bat to never take sides.

"I'm not kidding Jim. You _have_ to do this." Bones all but growled, seeing Kirk's 'fight-or-flight' instincts starting to kick in. He'd catch him eventually, but Bones wasn't really in the mood to chase down the Starfleet captain who was acting more like a 10 year old.

"Is there a problem?" The flat monotone voice of First Officer Spock questioned, having just arrived on the Bridge to see the confrontation. Kirk used Spock's appearance, which distracted McCoy, to all but leapt from his chair and skidded his way over to his First Officer, putting the Vulcan in between himself and his enraged CMO.

"Jim! Dammit get back here!"

"Spock! Great to see you! -_save me_-" Kirk slapped the Vulcan on the shoulder in his usual greeting, much Spock's annoyance, and began inching his way back towards the lift.

"The _Captain, _needs to report to sick bay, now." Bones growled, taking a step towards them pointing the hypospray at Kirk like the deadly weapon it was.

"No I don't!" Kirk yelled back as he made a dash for the lift, and frantically began punching the button for the doors to open.

Spock remained perfectly composed as ever, but internally he let out a heavy sigh. Having a great distaste for the Captain's moments of immaturity, and knowing there will be no end to this confrontation till the doctor got his way, Spock logically decided that ending the conflict now would be best.

Just as the lift doors opened and Kirk was about to scramble inside, Spock reached over and grabbed the back of Kirk's shirt, and using his great Vulcan strength, hauled the Captain back into the room. Kirk let out an unmanly squawk, stumbling for a moment as he attempted to right himself after being deposited back into the room. Seeing his First Officer step in front of the lift doors, blocking his only escape, Kirk sighed in defeat. "Traitor." He mumbled.

"Now, please explain the reason for the captain's required attendance down in the medical bay. Is he ill?" Spock questioned, turning his attention to the doctor, who he logically concluded would give the most honest answer.

"No, but he-"

"Ha! See, I told you I'm fine!" Jim cut in, but only earned a glare from Bones and Spock in return. Spock nodded for McCoy to continue.

"Starfleet regulations dictate that any and all personnel who go down to any planet that they have not visited previously, _must_ receive the mandated vaccine inoculations for any viruses or other illnesses that could be present." McCoy began, rattling off the regulation like it was straight from the textbook.

Spock nods in understanding. It was true, as he himself already received the required vaccine treatment for the new planet they were destined towards. He noticed Kirk's sudden reluctance to join in on the conversation, as the Captain had folded his arms across his chest in a defensive manner, and his expressions was dangerously close to being called a pout. "Yes, that is correct." Spock verbally agrees with the doctor, urging him to continue.

"This idiot here hasn't received his yet." McCoy grumbled, motioning towards the Captain with his hypospray. Kirk visibly flinched, near growled and shuffled a step farther away from the medical device.

Spock raised an eyebrow just marginally in interest, but hardly in surprise. It was practically common knowledge throughout the entire ship that the Captain held a certain hatred towards the medical department, and spending any small amount of time there.

Spock could only wonder if the Captain had yet to discover that his good friend the doctor had posted a ship-wide memo that stated; 'that if anyone noticed any sort of medical ailment with the Captain, regardless of the severity, they were to report it immediately to the CMO, and they were under _no_ circumstances aide the Captain in fleeing any medical staff.'

"Captain, this should hardly be anything new to you. The vaccines are important in protecting your health." Spock began, using his trademark 'lecture' tone, which Jim has frequently been on the receiving end.

"I _know_ that Spock, I just…" Jim paused for a moment, running a hand through his unruly blonde hair. "Those shots hurt like hell." Jim hastily continues, seeing the glares coming from both Spock and Bones. He could practically hear the '_Don't be such a baby, Jim'_, running through their minds. "I hate being stuck down in sickbay, hooked up to those damn machines for that long. I have better things to do with my time." Jim looks pathetically at Bones, who just rolls his eyes. Spock however, is surprised by this.

"Hooked up to machines? I was unaware that there was an additional process to your vaccinations. Please explain, doctor." Spock turned to McCoy for an explanation.

McCoy just gave an irritated sigh, looking thoroughly annoyed. "Jim here is _somehow_ allergic to at least half of the medications given to him. Remember a year ago during the beginning of the Nero incident? When his hands turned into giant mutant potatoes and his tongue swelled? Turns out that was just the tip of the iceberg. And that was just from a _mild_ inoculation. Luckily, for most of the planets we've been to in the past, Jim's had the vaccines already, or the reaction was very minimal. However this time, Jim needs three different vaccines, and they're pretty powerful stuff."

Most vaccines were actually rolled together in vaccination super-shots, which could have up 20 different vaccines in each dose. They were grouped together by common genetic make-up, to reduce reactions between the different vaccines. The super-shots were actually more efficient and had a much less allergic reaction ratio then having twenty individual shots of each vaccine. This time however, the needed vaccines were not apart of the typical super-shot package, because of their unique make-up.

"Because of this idiot's spastic immune system, I'll be putting him under 24-hour observation after I've given him the doses." McCoy concludes, glaring at Kirk the entire time.

"I don't need to be put under observation. I'll be _fine_." Kirk protests again, but deep down he knew the battle was already lost.

Spock is quiet a moment, pondering this new information. He was previously aware of the Captain's sensitivity towards medications, but he hadn't realized just how susceptible he was to deadly reactions. If Dr. McCoy was this adamant about the risks and needing to put the Captain under watch, Spock concluded that the Doctor's solution was most logical and best served.

"Captain, I am inclined to agree with the Doctor. Given your past medical record, and the risks with these inoculations, it is most logical and highly recommended that you go along with the Doctor.

"However, if you are so against the inoculations and the surveillance, the only other solution would be to simple not beam down to the planet. Because as Starfleet regulates, you are unauthorized to beam down without the mandated vaccines." Spock concluded, once again stating his opinion as if he were speaking to a child.

An expression of disgust flickered across Kirk's face. He knew he wasn't allowed to visit the planet without the proper vaccines, but the idea of being excluded from the landing party was far more agitating then sitting under Bones's 24-hour watch. His shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Dammit." He refused to actually verbally agree, but he'd figure Bones would get it.

"Good, now let's go. The faster we do this, the faster you can get back up here and play hero all you want." Bones latched onto Jim's upper arm, refusing to let him go until they were in Sick Bay, should Kirk decide to bolt halfway there.

"Spock, I leave to Bridge to you. If _anything _happens, call me." Kirk gave Spock a meaningful look, one that Spock understood quite well, and strongly resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Plainly put, Kirk wanted Spock to call him either way, and bail him out of Sick Bay. As if Spock would stoop to such childish actions.

"I doubt any end-of-the-world cataclysmic events will occur while you're gone." Bones just grumbled, dragging Kirk to the lift, and pushing him inside when the doors opened.

"You never know. We could get ambushed by Klingons, have a reactor meltdown, get sucked into a black hole and sent into the past, get attacked by a psychotic Romulan, hit a meteor-"

Bones just slapped him in the back of the head.

"Ow! What the hell was that for, you-"

And the lift doors snapped shut, sending the Bridge into silence.

Which didn't last long, because Sulu and Chekov immediately broke out into giggles. They were just as quickly silenced by a glare from Spock.

Sitting down in the captain's chair, Spock took up Kirk's data on the planet they were destined for, idly scanning the info he had already read through before.

"Continue on towards Arkadis 5."

-------

Kirk reclined on the medical bed, arms folded across his chest, and projecting as much anger and hate has he physically could to anyone who walked by. Which actually made him look more like a pathetic pouting child, especially with all the wires and such strapped to him. Some of the medical staff couldn't help but smile and almost giggle at his appearance. The irritating continuous beeping of the heart monitor, breathing monitor, brain function monitor and any other strange devices Bones managed to hook up to him didn't help his mood in the slightest either.

Rubbing his sore neck for the hundredth time, he mentally began a list of all the things he could do and things he could use as revenge against Bones. Which was actually a rather small list.

"Stopping rubbing it, you'll just make it more sore." Bones grumbled, walking up next to Jim's bed, idling scanning the monitors and jotting down a few notes.

"You're just doing this to torture me. You make up excuses and use your medical mumbo-jumbo to make it sound official, but really, you just do this to make me miserable and in _pain_." Kirk glared at the doctor, who just gave Kirk an all-knowing smile.

"Yes Jim, congratulation, you've figured out my master plan. All this time I've just been pretending to be your trusted friend, when actually I am trying to make your life a living hell by keep you alive and healthy, especially when you do such a great job of trying to get yourself killed." Bones grinned, and patted Kirk on the shoulder.

"Asshole." Kirk muttered. "So am I free to go yet? I feel _fine_." Jim stresses, for the hundredth time.

"Sixteen hours down. You're running a slight fever, but that's nothing too out of the ordinary. I'm keep you here for the full twenty-four hours and giving you a full physical at the end just to be sure." Bones replied, continuing to mark down some data as he read them off the monitors.

"Figures." Jim relaxed back onto the bed, closing his eyes and shifting himself slightly, attempting to get comfortable. "I'm taking a nap. Don't you dare poke or prod me while I'm asleep." Jim didn't open his eyes, but waved his finger at Bones for emphasis.

"I wouldn't dream of it Jim." Bones just replied, smirk never leaving his face.

-------

Jim awoke a few hours later with the distinct impression that something was _wrong_. He couldn't tell exactly what yet, but his head was pounding with an intense killer pain, and his body felt hot and heavy. He could not only feel, but hear the blood pumping behind his ears, throbbing and pounding like drums, making him dizzy. A strange coppery taste coated his mouth, and made it gross to swallow. Sitting up very slowly and groggily, Kirk tried to grasp exactly what was wrong. A strange warmth lined his eyes, and dripped down his cheeks. Smearing it with his fingers, Kirk could barely get his mind to work straight enough to figure out why his tears were red.

And then, the alarms of the monitors began.

"Jim! What's wrong!?" Bones suddenly showed up out of no where, at was at Jim's side in an instant. He was horrified to find blood seeping from Jim's eyes, nose, and from the lining he saw on his lips, from his mouth too. A quick glance at the monitors told McCoy that Jim's heart rate was elevated and neural activities irregular. His temperature was high too.

"I need some help over here!" McCoy called to his staff, who were already beginning to dash in.

"Bones. 'M fine. Jus…jus'st a lil head…hurt…ya know? M'fine." Kirk mumbled incoherently as he was pushed back down on the bed.

"Just shuttup for a minute, Jim." Bones growled, pulling up vital scans and read-outs from the monitors and ordering his staff for various tests.

"Blood pressure's too high. Signs of internal bleeding. Irregular neural activities increasing, along with rapid heart rate. I need a blood work and a cell count. Get the IV hooked up and a blood transfusion."

Jim's head slumped to the side, as the monitors began screaming even louder. Blood slowly ran down his face and pooled along the bed. His breathing labored, wheezing and gurgled, and his heart jumped at dangerous rates within his chest.

"Shit! His lungs are filling with blood. Get him bagged and hooked up to the oxygen. I need to drain the fluids from his lungs. Where are those blood tests!?" Bones ordered out like an angry war general, as he worked furiously to treat the failing captain.

"Someone page Commander Spock! Tell him we got an emergency and to get his ass down here, now!" Bones screamed.

"Dammit Jim! I'm _not_ letting you die here, not on _my_ watch."

----

An hour later, McCoy stumbled out of the room, covered in splatters of blood and looking like the walking dead. He slumped down on a bench, rubbing his tired eyes. Spock warily approached the doctor, looking calm and composed, but anyone who knew the Vulcan could tell he was anxious for an update.

"He's stable." McCoy said finally, and the tension in Spock's shoulders visibly relaxed.

"Doctor, what happened?"

McCoy straightened his back, and leaned his head against the wall behind him, eyes closed. Where to being?

"Cerebral and intracranial hemorrhaging, which resulted in additional bleeding through the eyes, nose, and through his respiratory system. Additional swelling in the brain caused some complications, but we've been able to stop the bleeding. The only thing left now is to wait for the swelling to go down, and his fever to break." McCoy rattled off the symptoms he had been battling with for the past hour.

"And these are all side-affects due to the inoculations?" Spock asked, voice tight and grim with the news. McCoy just nodded.

"Whether it was one or the combination of all three, I suppose we'll never know. All we can do now is wait for him to wake up to know the real extent of the damage…" McCoy finished, holding his head in his hands again in exhaustion. Spock could practically hear the unspoken truth behind McCoy's words.

'_If Jim ever wakes up.'_

Any type of internal bleeding was dangerous. Bleeding in the brain was even worse. With the addition of swelling and a fever, there was no way of knowing what type of damage his brain might have sustained.

"Dammit" McCoy hastily got to his feet, feeling too anxious to sit in one place. "I'll page you when he wakes or if there are any changes." And with that, McCoy walked away.

Spock himself walked to the window which looked into Kirk's room, hands calmly held behind his back, expression blank. But inside, his gut churned.

Kirk laid sprawled on the medical bed, deathly pale. A breathing mask over his face assisted in his breathing, and various IV's were hooked up to him, dripping fluids and blood into his weakened body. Spock found it to be surreal to see the captain, who is usually so lively, to be so still. Unable to watch anymore, Spock turned, and headed back up to the Bridge.

-----

McCoy is abruptly awoken from the slumber he didn't remember falling into, his head jerking upwards from where it had been cradled in his arms, hunched over his desk.

"Doctor! Doctor! Come quickly!"

McCoy sprang from his desk, dashing through the medical bay towards the nurse's call.

"What's wrong!?" McCoy ran up to the nurse, who was looking into Kirk's room. She just simply pointed.

Inside, Kirk was awake and he was currently sluggishly attempting to wrestle the monitor and IV tubes off of him.

"Jim! Oh thank god, you're awake!" McCoy ran to Kirk's side. He attempted to reach forward to examine Kirk's eyes, checking their response, but Kirk flinched out of his grasp.

"Don't touch me!" He snarled, battling with the monitor wires and attempted to get out of the bed.

"Jim, jesus stop moving! You had a severe reaction to the vaccinations, and nearly bled to death. You can't move yet. So just calm down." McCoy pushed the struggling captain back down onto the bed, his eyes flickering over the monitors, noticing Kirk's elevated heart rate.

Kirk did not calm down. If anything, he almost began to hyperventilate. "Where am I?" He wheezed out, his chest heaving.

"Dammit Jim, calm down! You're still in Sick Bay. Your still feeling some of the effects of the reaction. You need to breath slowly." McCoy responded, trying to soothe the agitated man.

Kirk took several deep and almost panting breaths, his eyes wildly scanning the room. He eventually looked straight at McCoy, giving him a long searching look. It was then, by some internal instinct in McCoy's gut, he knew something was wrong. That feeling turned truth, with Kirk's next words.

"Who are you?"

-----

Reviews are most welcomed!


	2. Chapter 2

Jim hated hospitals. He hated everything about them; from the acidic bleach-clean smell, to uncomfortable beds and glaring white-bright lights, down to the irritating know-it-all kind of people who worked in them. So when Jim awoke, groggy, confused and all of his senses bombarded by all the things he hated, he _knew_, he was in a hospital.

Through all of Jim's personal experiences, he had learned nothing good ever came about being in a hospital, _especially _if you were the one in the bed. He had been a wild child, and that trait carried on well into his adolescent and young adult years. A little bit of blood and pain never really slowed him down. So suffice to say he'd been acquainted with Riverside's Mercy Hospital, and spent cumulative weeks and maybe months worth of his life there. In all those times, Jim had yet to think of one incident where being in a hospital was a good thing. People often would say that childbirth was an occasion of celebration within a hospital, but then again, Jim wasn't born in a hospital, so his birth didn't count. The stuck-up doctors would preach that they were saving his sorry-ass life, and that he should be grateful for their efforts. They would tell him that he should be glad to be in a hospital, because being there saved his life. Jim still didn't think it count.

Jim first took a silent moment to check himself over. He flexed his arms, and his toes, checking to make sure he at least still had all him limbs. No immediate pains flared when rolled upwards and reclined on his elbows, propping himself up. He gave a passing thought to the somewhat strange looking room he was in. It wasn't like the old-fashioned water-stained rooms of Riverside Mercy Hospital, but Jim hadn't been in a hospital for at least over a month (almost a new record), so he figured that much-needed grant money finally came in, and they refurbished it or something. His head throbbed like something wicked, and he didn't really want to dwell on it too much at that moment.

Struggling to get up, still feeling dizzy from whatever effects landed him in a hospital in the first place, Jim's next order of business was to remove the tangles of wires that were strapped to his body. His fingers felt numb and useless, which made the task slightly more difficult and slower then normal. He was breathing deep and steady, trying to calm the rising panic that was swelling in his chest. Not knowing where he was and why he was there greatly unsettled Jim, and set all his nerves on edge.

He caught a quick glimpse of a nurse looking into his room, but he didn't really care, no matter how cute she was. He wasn't in a particularly good mood at the moment, which put flirting at the bottom of his priority list.

Suddenly an overly-excited doctor dashed into his room, looking at Jim with an expression he'd never seen on a doctor before. Relief.

"Jim! Oh thank god, you're awake." The doctor all but ran up to him, and approached Jim in an overly friendly matter that instantly made Jim suspicious. Jim knew all the doctors in Riverside, Iowa's hospital. There weren't that many, and Jim had spent enough time there to get acquainted with all of them pretty well. They all knew the do's and don'ts and such when dealing with one James T. Kirk. In fact, Jim was pretty sure they had a special long memo attached to his medical file, listing instructions on how to deal with him. Jim figured someone forgot to give the new-guy the memo.

Jim reeled back when the doctor reached for Jim's face, flashlight in one hand. That's it, Jim had enough.

"Don't touch me!" He barked, flinching away from the too-close doctor, struggling anew to free himself. The doctor apparently didn't like that idea.

"Jim, jesus stop moving! You had a severe reaction to the vaccinations, and nearly bled to death. You can't move yet, so just calm down." The doctor pushed Jim rather forcefully back onto the bed, harder then Jim would've suspected from a doctor his size. He was stronger then he looked. Or maybe Jim was just that weak?

"Where am I?" Jim wheezed, his chest constricting painfully, a panic attack settling over him. Why was he panicking? He didn't know. Some internal instinct was setting off alarms in his head, and Jim always trusted his instincts. All he knew was that he suddenly couldn't breathe, and he needed to leave the strange medical room, _immediately_. He needed out!

"Dammit Jim, calm down! You're still in Sick Bay. You're still feeling some of the effects of the reaction. You need to breath slowly." The doctor pressed his palm against Jim's chest, trying to get him to calm down and take slower breaths.

There it was again. The way the doctor spoke to him, spoke his name. Something felt off, _wrong_. It was as if he knew Jim, on more then a doctor-patient way. Jim didn't like it.

He licked his try lips, trying to breath more slowly through his nose, to calm himself down and think rationally. He scanned the room a second time, harder, but the more he looked, the more strange and foreign the room felt. A deep unsettling feeling hit him square in the chest. What if he wasn't in Riverside anymore? He remembered the doctor mentioning a Sick Bay. Hospitals weren't called that. Sick Bays were only on one thing, but Jim didn't continue with that thought. He didn't like the answer.

Jim looked at the doctor again, studying him intently. He felt as if he should know this man, but only the faintest feeling of recognition came to him. Like Déjà vu. He licked his lips again, his mouth suddenly feeling dry and cottony.

"Who are you?" Jim finally asks. The reaction he got was like throwing a stone through a large glass window. Unexpected and shattering.

The doctor looked stunned, almost in disbelief in what he heard. He recovers just as quickly, and actually _glares_ at Jim. "That's not funny Jim. You can't joke around like that." The doctor scolds.

"Who's joking? I don't know who _you _are. So start explaining already." Jim glares back and renews his struggle to free himself from the hospital bed, succeeding this time. Despite the doctor's apparent objection to him moving about, Jim sits up fully on the bed, swinging his feet over the side. His head throbs a little now, but feels better then before.

The doctor stares at Jim again with a slight edge of panic in his expression. He turns his attention back to the medical equipment, but Jim could tell he wasn't really looking _at _them. Apparently Jim not knowing the doctor came to a shock to the man.

After a long moment, the doctor gave a heavy ragged sigh, then pulled up a stool that was nearby, dragging it in front of where Jim sat on the bed. He sat down on it and pulled out his PADD, and a tricorder from what Jim could tell. The doctor seemed to compose himself, for the look he gave Jim was nothing but professional.

"Jim, I need to ask you a series of questions. I want you to answer them with as much honesty as you can." Jim notices he says this in such a way as if he knows Jim is the type to lie. Jim doesn't give him a response, but just rolls his eyes. He knew this part, the questions. Doctors would ask him a series of stupid and obvious questions whenever he got a concussion or any kind of head injury. He felt like stupid child answering them, but he'd long stopped giving sarcastic remarks because the smart-ass doctors would take them seriously and then just keep him there even _longer_. The doctor seemed to expect this response, because he takes it as a 'yes' and starts.

The doctor reads them off from his PADD, one by one, occasionally looking at the tricorder which is hovering near Jim.

"Please give me your full name" "James Tiberius Kirk."

"When is your birthday?" "March 22, 2233"

"Where were you born?" "Space, in the middle of no where."

"What is the last thing you remember?" "Riding my hover bike to work, over by the docks."

The doctor pauses at this answer, giving Jim a long, almost pained look. "Jim." He starts, trying to find the right words. "What year is it, now?"

Jim rolls his eyes again. "2256" Duh.

The doctor looks horrified. "Oh god." He mumbles to himself. "Tell me everything. Everything you remember. Where do you work? Where do you live? How old are you?" The doctor presses more urgently. At the panicked look in the doctors's eyes, the sick feeling of dread and panic starts pooling in Jim's stomach again.

"Look, dude. I answered your stupid questions. Now it's your turn to answer mine. Like where the hell am I? Or better yet, why I'm here in the first place, playing twenty-questions." Jim stands now, unable to sit still any longer. Interrogations made him restless, and the way the doctor was looking at him, like he was suppose to _know _something, Jim felt down right sick.

"I can't tell you." The doctor beings, looking desperate. "There are protocols in this situation. Procedures to follow and - HEY! Dammit Jim! Get back here!"

The second Jim heard the words _'I can't tell you'_, he bolted. If no one was going to tell him, then he'd just have to find out for himself. Protocols and procedures be damned. He dashed from the room, and blindly ran through the narrow corridors, looking for anything. A window, a doorway, an _exit_. He could here the doctor calling to him from behind, but he didn't care. He just ran.

The halls were littered with people, all in uniforms, Jim recognized. He himself, he just noticed, was dressed all in black, with dark pants and a black tank top. It slightly unnerved Jim that he realized it was _not_ what he was wearing the last he remembered, but what he was dressed in hardly toped the charts of surprises he'd been having since he'd woken up.

Dashing through the winding hallways and corridors, going purely by instinct and gut feeling, Jim tried to not to look at the people he passed. Because they were all looking at _him. _Not with annoyance, or confused looks that an outsider such as himself should be getting, considering he was trespassing. No, every one looked at him with recognition. Some with respect, a head nod or a salute. Others waved or shook their heads in amusement. Others just plain ignored him, as if it was a common occurrence. Jim couldn't bring himself to stop and ask someone for directions.

This place felt like a surreal trip. He dashed through twisting corridors, some massive in scale, others tiny and cramped. But no matter where he ran, he couldn't find a single exit. Each door lead to a series of more corridors with more doors. Jim was starting to feel like a rat in a labyrinth, endless circling around.

A doorway labeled 'Observatory' caught his attention. Finally! A window or something for Jim to get his bearings. The door hissing open, Jim slipped inside.

The room was empty, and eerily quiet from the earlier noises of the corridors. A massive plane of glass took up an entire wall, from floor to ceiling. Jim slowly walked up to the clear thick material, and pressed his hands against the cold surface. He stood there, looking out the window, into a vast empty space. Of nothing.

Space. He was in fucking space! Jim curled his hands into fists and banged them against the glass. A space ship. Somehow he'd managed to land himself on a space ship, in the middle of god damn nowhere.

The door behind him hissed open, and he slowly turned his head to see the doctor standing there, watching him with uncertainty. Jim turned his head back, gazing into the vast nothingness, hopelessly looking for something. Anything.

"Where am I?" He asked again, his voice oddly calm for his inter turmoil.

The doctor didn't answer at first, but after a lengthy pause, he spoke. "The _U.S.S. Enterprise_ of Starfleet."

The Enterprise, huh? Jim thought he was pretty up-to-date with all of Starfleet's ships, but then again, he'd never heard of the Enterprise. It had to be a Starfleet ship too, just his luck. Jim hated Starfleet.

"Why am I here?" Jim asked, turning his head again to glare at the doctor. He wasn't going to take any half-assed answers this time.

The doctor senses Jim's anger, and replies without hesitation this time.

"Because this ship is your home, and you are her captain. Sir."

* * *

Oh snap, an update. A little faster then I expected, but writing Jim's inner thoughts turned out to be fairly easy and fun. That and the TON of reviews I got fed my inspiration like gasoline to a fire.

Still a little iffy with this, but I like this chapter a lot more then the first.

I'll mention this now, because someone in a review asked about pairings.

THERE WILL BE NO PAIRINGS. This is mainly a Kirk-centric fic, with strong roles from Spock and McCoy, and other interactions with the rest of the crew. It is strictly a friendship fic between all the crew. Sorry for those who are disappointed, but I hope to keep it interesting enough for you to continue reading.

Please continue reviewing!!!! I love reviews more then +alerts or +favs. I NEED FEEDBACK.

Next chapter: Spock is informed of Jim's condition, and Jim tries to deal with being on ship he can't remember ever being on.


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